


Astrophiliac

by yunabunny



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Astronomy Theories, Body Horror, Depression, Drug Abuse, Fluff, Human bill, M/M, Mutilation, Self-Harm, Smut, Teeth, Tooth Fetish, Unhealthy Relationships, XOLOTL - Freeform, mindscape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7507345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunabunny/pseuds/yunabunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The monsters that Dipper Pines used to chase after, he now hides from. But when the demons in his head threaten to rip his life apart, will the demon in his bed finally end it all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark Matter

Dipper wasn't afraid of the dark. Long ago, he had learned to find peace when shrouded in it's stillness; when everything slept and he could be alone with his thoughts. In the dark, no eye could judge him, no tongue could question him. It was safe. Like a blanket pulled over his eyes and shielding him from the living world. He wanted to remain cradled in it's obscurity forever. 

Over the years, he had grown to be reclusive, even he could see that. It had happened gradually, starting the day he had become an only child. Mabel had never seen it coming, the car; the darkness. Neither had he. It took her in, ripped her away from him, and never let go.

Any average person would have stayed away from it after that. But Dipper wasn't average, he was curious; he wanted answers. Curiosity turned to experiments, experiments to theories, and theories to obsession. Before he knew it, he had willingly become a slave to the inky blackness.

'It was security. It was solitude.' At least, that's what it had become; that's what it had always been. Why, then, did he need to repeat those words to himself now?

Dipper shifted his arm slightly, the sound of skin rubbing against wood amplified by the thick silence it disturbed. He was sitting at the kitchen table, shades drawn, doors locked tight, any and all lights covered and extinguished. This was a normal 4:00am for Dipper Pines. Every night he stayed awake, sitting in perfect, numbing silence for hours on end. It was soothing to his weary nerves. No reminders of his stress, his anxiety, his responsibilities; just peace.

Or, it should be. There came another disruption. His eyes focused straight ahead in the pitch. Even in the dark, he could almost clearly see the refrigerator against the far wall and it's coat of unceremoniously pinned on scraps of paper. Notes, lists, bills. None of them stirred. Yet, there it was again. A breath, like paper rubbing together and trying to become speech, nipped at the tip of his ears. No, he was sure it was a voice. His shoulders tensed and he strained to hear, holding back his own breath for a long moment. There came a crunching hiss, like whispers through teeth. And not just one, but several. Several whispers arguing with each other, hardly a breath between them. 

Dipper's throat made a gross, wet sound as he swallowed. Fear was creeping up his spine, sifting through the fine hairs on the back of his neck, and itching at his ears. He braced himself, tightening his fists before standing suddenly and whipping around toward the voices. The movement sent the old wooden chair that he'd been sitting on clattering to the floor. It screamed and scrapped and beat against the tile below, sounds ricocheting and filling the room with ear splitting disdain. Dipper's heart raced, adrenaline pumped blood into his head making it impossible to hear anything but his own heart beat. Eyes much too wide shifted in the disturbed darkness but saw nothing.

With another good pump of flight in his veins, he was out of the room, stumbling a bit in the living room and tripping on serveral stairs. Catching himself once more with his hands tapping off the floor, he dashed to his bedroom, slamming the door behind himself. The ringing was painful, his lungs contracting and expanding rapidly. Too much noise.

Pausing, listening past his own contamination, he tested his room for sounds. 

"Tick, tick, tick,"

His bedside clock was all that called out to him. A sigh escaped, much more shaky than he had expected. He touched a hand gently to his chest. He could feel his fingers twitching spastically over the thudding beneath. Not good. He needed to calm down. 

Forcing himself to breathe, he entered the bathroom with quick, purposeful steps. There was a faint light coming from the plug in the wall near the sink, indicating that the power was on. It managed to set a glowing edge to most of the contours of the room and Dipper used it to find the bottles that he needed from the medicine cabinet. Diazepam, Xanax, and Prozac. He emptied a few of each into his trembling hand.

Dipper swallowed them dryly, teeth gritting to try and further bite off the anxiety. It had grown worse over the years, cripplingly so, festering and mutating from feelings he couldn't cope with anymore. He hated it. It made him feel pathetic.

Sleep finally pulled at his body, relaxing strained muscles and causing his head to loll. His movements slowed as he returned to his room again. Worn cotton hung loosely from his chest before he worked the shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. Idle fingers brushed along pale skin, ribs and hips just beginning to push up from beneath. He'd try and remember to eat tomorrow, he told himself as he slipped out of his pants.

The sheets felt cool against his skin as he lay down, but Dipper hardly had time to appreciate them before his mind drifted. He sunk deep. Deep into a true and undisturbed darkness that choked out all light.

Dipper didn't bother to look around at the color bleached room he now sat in. He'd been to the mindscape countless times during his self-induced deep sleep sessions. He sat at a grey and worn desk, pen in hand. The surface was hidden under stacks of papers, time-worn journals, old Polaroids, a newspaper headline shouting "TRAGIC WRECK." 

He pushed them all back to make room for a new page. His pen swung lazy letters along the paper, eyes following dully, but he crumpled it up and tossed it to join dozens of others on the floor. As backwards as it was, this was the only place he could get any work done anymore, inside his own mind.

Dipper rested his chin on his palm and flipped open one of his great uncle's journals absently, skimming the pages. Detailed images and handwritten script had faded into light outlines and patches of ink, but some were still legible. Notes on creatures that have too many teeth, diagrams on the effects of multidimensional rifts, a summoning circle for Bill Cipher. 

He shut the cover with a heavy sigh. These pages had once meant so much to him; they had saved his life. But it all felt a lifetime away. It had been over a year since he had last spoken to Ford and seeing the pages now left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Dipper leaned back in his desk chair, inspecting the post it notes tacked all over the wall above. He hadn't added any since Weirdmageddon and they stood like a shrine to his efforts back then. 

"Bill's power is growing."  
"Attack his eye. It's his weak spot!"  
"We need to close the rift."

The flutter of an ironic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

"This won't be the end."

But it felt like it had been. Dipper's life had fallen apart since then. Bit by bit, the pieces of himself had been lost to the void of time. He had outlived his usefulness. When he had Mabel- When they had worked together to fight a power thirsty demon, life had felt surreal. 

Now he was alone, the only demons he fought were inside his head. 

He shut his eyes, images of Bill Cipher's horrible eye replaying in his thoughts like old home movies. Why was he thinking of all of this now? Reminiscing didn't change anything. It didn't change the fact that he was lost and crumbling into his own mind. But some part of him wanted it back. He wanted to go back in time; to amend just one relationship so that he wouldn't be alone now. He needed to hear someone, anyone's voice call out to him. He needed-

"Hello, Pine Tree."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first try at actually writing, eheh. I'll do my best ~~but please be gentle~~.
> 
> Expect this fic to have a lot of Astronomy themed Nerd Notes.
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> Dark Matter is a mysterious matter that emits absolutely no light and warps gravity and space around it. You could say that it's the universe's perfect darkness.


	2. Orbit of Venus

Dipper shot straight up from his sheets, arms grasping at the air as the fleeting sensation of falling dropped him back into reality. For a disorienting moment, he looked around his room. A ribbon of orange light was slipping through the curtains, falling along the floor, and crawling up into his wide eye. He hissed, covering his face. A thudding rose quickly into his skull from both the head rush of waking too suddenly and the pulsing of coming down from a high.

Dipper sighed. He couldn't remember if he had dreamt this time or not. The clock to his left read '6:32PM.' He'd managed to sleep for twelve full hours.

A short, unamused laugh left his lips as he slowly stood up. Crouching down at the pile of misplaced laundry near the foot of his bed, he retrieved the shorts he'd worn the day before and routed around for a shirt that didn't smell. "Laundry..." he frowned at the heap of fabrics before slipping his clothes on, "Maybe tomorrow."

Dipper's stomach complained as he entered the bathroom. Right. He'd almost forgotten that he'd promised it food. His eyes lifted to the bathroom mirror, hand gripping at his side subconsciously. A new frown pulled at his face along with the dark circles under his eyes. He lifted his shirt before the glass to inspect the skin underneath. Pale and tightly stretched. It's not as if he was purposely starving himself; he didn't idealize the jutting bones and tender feeling in his gut, but his physical wellbeing came second to his mental health. 

That's what he told himself.

Another angry growl twisted at Dipper's insides. "Okay, okay. I get it." He sighed, letting his shirt slip back down as he opened the cabinet hidden behind the mirror. "Just wait a second." He hastily popped his morning dose of anxiety medication into his mouth before heading downstairs.

The lower floor of his narrow house looked more like a museum than a home. Everything was in it's place, but long untouched; stale. Momentos, photos of the family he had left behind when he'd moved, rested on a few of the surfaces. A worn out couch, dusty bookshelves, and forgotten tv were all that was in the living room to his left. With no one to share the space, what was the point of having it? It all made him feel numb.

The lights flickered on as he entered the kitchen. A quick reminder of the voices he'd heard the night before flickered in his mind as well, but he pushed them aside. Food. He lazily dropped a few pieces of bread into the toaster, plucking idly at a bill left out on the counter. Dipper scowled, knowing that he couldn't make the payment. He'd been fired nearly three months ago, unable to come into work due to his mental state. He thought about the offer of a place to stay that Stan had given him and a self-reprimanding groan left his lips.

The toaster popped, but the sound wasn't right. Dipper's brow furrowed as he stared at it blearily. Not a click, but a tone. "What..." Maybe he was hearing things again. Just as he started to worry, the tone came again, echoing through the deathly still house and he recognized it as the doorbell. The corner of his mouth tugged down a bit. Who could be slinking around his home at night? He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a visitor. He decided that it was probably just a solicitor or traveling evangelist spouting second-rate catch phrases and one-liners and ignored the door.

But ignoring it wasn't enough. The ringing came again and again, over and over, until the doorbell sounded like one long, never-ending note. Dipper groaned loudly, slamming his hand against the counter and glaring in the direction of the source. He stomped up to the door, ready to give the persistent prick a piece of his mind, and turned the handle roughly. He let the door hit against the wall as he swung it open, irritation etched into his face. "What the FUCK is your problem?!" He shouted, the volume of his own voice surprising him, but not nearly as much as the figure who pushed against the doorframe.

A tall, slim, blonde man with wide shoulders loomed over him, casting a long shadow against the fiery sky. He was wearing a ridiculously angular, yellow suit jacket and slick black slacks, a bow tie knotted around his slant throat. His long digits where hooked over the top of the doorframe and he leaned his face in closer, golden eyes piercing and a toothy maw splitting his face. "What a way to greet your old pal!" The man's shrill voice rose into an unabashed laugh. Dipper instinctively took a step back from the creature, his mouth slack and unable to form his disgust.

The stranger didn't care about his obvious discomfort and, instead, used Dipper's retreat as an opportunity to step into the hallway. Dipper choked on a few broken syllables, feeling frozen in place as he tilted his head back to look up at the intruder. His wide eyes were locked on the narrow pupils inching toward his face. "Did you miss me, kid?" The man jeered, lips somehow cutting his face all the wider as he took hold of the brunette's stiff shoulders. 

Blood was rushing into his face and he could feel himself shaking with indignation. "Who are you? Get out of my house- Get out!" His words were threatening but he couldn't manage to shake the fingers that were crushing at his arms off. The man pushed the door behind him closed with the heal of his shiny black shoe without breaking their eye contact, and continued on as if Dipper hadn't spoken at all. "My, my. Dipper Pines, look at you! My little sapling's grown since last time." His words were laced with insincere praise. Gaping eyes slid over the shorter being, noting slender appendages, sunken, glassy eyes, and fitless clothing. "Still as underwhelming as ever, eh Pine Tree?" Those wide eyes crinkled in spiteful amusement.

Something like bile was creeping up the back of Dipper's throat. But he couldn't- it was completely impossible- the demon of his past was gone; dead. Still, his voice cracked out, "B-Bill?" An all-to-familiar cackle rang in Dipper's ears as he pried himself from the bruising grip. Bill's grin was pleased and he began circling the other slowly, like a predator sizing up it's prey. "Guess you haven't gotten any shaper, either. What HAVE you been doing all these years?" Dipper backed into the kitchen in a clumsy retreat, as the human-like form of the multi-dimensional demon came around to face him again. 

"I'll tell you what I've been doing." Bill sang, voice dripping like sticky, sour tar, "I've been hard at work, building this new flesh vessel, stitch by stitch, sinew by sinew.~" Dipper flinched as his lower back hit the edge countertop and he realized that he had backed himself into a corner. Bill came to a stop, just inches from him, pinning his victim like a butterfly on display. "What do you think? There aren't as many sharp edges as I'd like," The demon jeered, "But I guess you like it, seeing as you can't take your eyes off of me!" 

Dipper swallowed, feeling dizzy and confused. "Wha-" He paused and tried again, "W-what are you doing here? What do you want from me?" His stomach lurched as he thought back to the day he had tried to kill Bill, a heavy word on his lips, "Revenge...?" 

A low laugh slipped out from exposed teeth, sounding something like a purr. Dipper felt the flat of Bill's palms pressing on either side of his head, the pressure earning a wince. "As entertaining as it would be to slowly pull you apart, I mean really tear you up, bit by rotting little bit," The blonde suddenly straightened himself, releasing Dipper from his trap and shuffling lazily over to a picture frame, as if it had become more interesting, "No, no. Fun will have to wait." 

A black nail flicked against the glass covering an old photo of the Pines twins, as if to test it's resilience. Dipper's hand was starting to shake again as he carefully moved to grasp a knife from the block, eyes locked on the back that was turned to him, every movement paranoid that he'd be caught. But he had already managed to conceal the weapon behind his back before Bill turned back to him.

"I've been planning a little surprise for you! Well, not just you. Don't let it get to your squishy little head, I have a stake in it too." "What are you playing at?" The brunette tried to look enraged as the dominating figure pressed into him again. "Play time's over, kid." A hand took Dipper's wrist, lifting it between their heated gaze to reveal the sharp object. With a tight, joint-popping squeeze, the blade fell in a clatter at their feet. Dipper hissed, shutting his stinging eyes tightly as his fingers bent painfully. "Instead, let's talk business." came the malicious words, "Are you ready to make a deal?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill has arrived.
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> At the end of Gravity Falls (spoiler alert), Bill calls upon the power of the Aztec god, Xolotl. Xolotl is the god of chaos, misfortune, lightning, deformities, and twins. 
> 
> Sound like a certain torillia chip?
> 
> But Xolotl is also the personification of Venus. Venus has a special orbit that's eccentricity follows and faces toward the pull of the Earth.
> 
> Almost like a dance, always watching.


	3. Ill Wishes

He could feel it, Dipper was having a panic attack. He tried to will his hyperventilating lungs to steady, well aware of the scrutinizing eyes that were staring him down. "O-oh god..." He groaned, leaning forward on the couch to rub at his purplish wrist. The living room felt suffocating, like the corners were gradually shrinking in. Bill stood before him, watching with a pleased expression. "You called?" The brunette shot him a weak glare but Bill didn't let up, "Though, you should know that I'm not going to be merciful. Nah, the whole falling apart look is great! It suits you." 

"You were dead!" It a statement disguised as a question, "H-how... why-" Dipper's words fumbled and fell away from him, like his confidence. "It took some time and a lot of...donations to build this vessel. But it doesn't matter how, why is far more interesting." Bill paused, his expectant expression was almost childish. Dipper wasn't charmed, his voice ridged and tight, "I'm listening." 

"I came back for you, Pine Tree." Bill closed the space between them with a long stride, his slender fingers coming to pinch at a clammy cheek. He became distracted for a moment, curiously noting how the skin began to warm. "I've got something that every pathetic little hermit like you needs: money. All I want in return is one measly little star." 

The pinching digits tugged at captured flesh before being forcibly removed. "What are you talking about? You want to buy something from me?" Bill's hand had moved on to Dipper's forehead, pushing the hair away and poking gingerly at each freckle beneath. "Polaris. You can have all sorts of green paper to buy useless human garbage with. Things like, oh I don't know..." Now a finger jabbed at his stomach, "Food?" The lack of personal space was starting to get to Dipper, but he pushed through it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have...whatever it is." Dull, brown eyes lit with realization, "And why would I ever make a deal with you again? How dense do you think I am? You aren't getting anything from me, so just leave!"

Time stopped between the two figures surrounded by the darkening room. The sun seemed to slink away as rage cut into the demon's face, sharpening all of his features until they could cut with one glance. Dipper felt his throat dry as the figure lowered itself to cage him the against couch. Rough hands were gripping at his hair and skull, turning his head back and forth as if to examine it. He was too panicked to fight. 

Narrowed, golden eyes met his as he was turned to face them once more. They were growing closer and closer, until all he could see was their blurry, burning outlines. "Or maybe," Bill's voice had lost it's cheerful tone, sending a chill down Dipper's spine, "Maybe I'll just take it from you, right here, right now. I'll tear open that thick cranium of your's- or are you hiding it behind those flimsy ribs?" The grip on Dipper's head pressed harder and he gasped as Bill's temper seemed to rise to boiling, "Tell me where it is! Where are you hiding it?!" Dipper shut his eyes tight in an effort to escape the burning gaze. "I don't know! I don't know where it is!"

They both shifted as Bill stood again, his face turning abruptly blank and cold. "Oh." he said shortly, "No matter. You weren't my first pick anyway. You see, I _was_ going to get one from Shooting Star, but she's not much fun these days." Dipper bristled up at the mention of his sister, blinking back defensive tears. "Don't talk about her! She would never help you!" 

"Oh, I think she will." Sharp teeth shone in the dim room, Bill's bone crushing smile reappearing. He shifted in his shoes, straightening his long spine to tower over the other even further. "How about I sweeten the deal a bit? I'll look after you, my poor, defenseless little sapling, _and_ I'll even give you the chance to see her again." 

"What..." Dipper's voice was hardly more than a whisper, his eyes widening, "Y-you can..." Bill spoke over him, voice bouncing off the walls as he exclaimed, "WOW! I am feeling SO generous right now! But- Oh! I'm also feeling impatient."

A hand swung out in front of the stunned face, waiting to be met. Dipper's thoughts were swimming with images of his sister, of Mabel. The two of them were a pair; a matching set. Alone, he felt unbalanced. She had always been the strong and confident one, optimistic but gentle. Mabel was his one true ally, the only person who could help him make sense of his feelings; who could soothe his anxiety. He had fallen to bits without her and no amount of medication could pull him back together. But what if-

"Tick. Tick. Tick!" Bill chirped, his hand just inches from a rosy nose. Nothing else mattered. If there was the slightest chance that this crooked polygon could bring Mabel back, he'd sacrifice anything. Dipper's hand gripped Bill's tightly, half expecting it to burst into flames as the deal was struck.

"Perfect." Bill purred, giving Dipper's bruised hand a squeeze. 

"When do I see her?" "Ah, ah." the blonde tutted, yanking the other to his feet, "Not so fast. You'll get her soul when I have yours." Dipper's face paled as he processed the words carefully. "What are you saying? I thought you wanted a star? Something called Polaris-" Frustrated tears threatened to spill down his cheeks as anger and humiliation crushed at his chest. "Stupid little brat." Bill pressed down on Dipper's crown, 

"You _are_ Polaris." 

"Somewhere in that sickly flesh bag of your's, is a powerful little fireball. And it's mine, all mine!" The demon's words were giddy and sour and heavy and delighted.

"You lied to me!" Dipper shoved Bill away from himself, teeth gritting and vision clouded. "No I didn't." Bill mused, flicking at the other's exposed teeth as if he were taunting a wild dog. "I should really remember to pay 'ol Sixer a visit to thank him. If he hadn't hidden all of this from you, I might have actually had to fight you for it. But you, Pine Tree. You sold your soul without any resistance!" 

Laughter, manic and piercing, filled the darkness. Dipper felt sick. He'd played right into Bill's schemes again, just like the puppet he was. He thought of Mabel bitterly, realizing that he still had a hand to play. 

"Take it then." 

The room stilled a bit, but the glint of confidence remained. "Eager to get started, eh? It's interesting how you always throw yourself into oncoming traffic for Shooting Star. Well, almost always." Taunting lips curled and rows and rows of sharp teeth threatened to bite or split into another string of hysterics. 

Something in Dipper felt like it was crumbling. His shoulders slumped, and his legs considered dropping him to the feet of this monster in human skin. But he still had one purpose. "If you have my soul, then Mabel will have a chance to live again, right?" A singsongy hum agreed to the terms. "Then I want you to take it. I don't care what happens to me, you can kill me right here and now and I won't fight you. Just so long as you swear that she'll be safe."

Bill plucked at a brown lock of hair repeatedly, watching it bounce as he spoke. "Did I say interesting? I meant stupid." Painted fingernails scraped lightly against Dipper's cheek as if they were itching to start tearing. He lowered his gaze, his body feeling numb and compliant despite the objection of his racing pulse. 

Bill seemed more than pleased with the display, his hand wrapping around a thumping neck without pressure. "Not yet. As much as I'd love to rip you up now- and I'd really love to- it's going to take some time." 

Dipper's brow furrowed in some sick form of disappointment, "Why?" Claw-like nails scratched impatiently at the angry, beating vein beneath their grasp. "You can blame yourself for that. Shouldn't be hard since it seems like you're already doing that in every other aspect of your pathetic life.~" Bill's expression hardened as he gave a quick squeeze, observing how easily he could coerce a choking sound from the other. "You're weak, pitiful, and rotting, and that means so is Polaris. I'm not going to accept a broken hunk of junk." Dipper gave him a weak look of confusion, something greying out his eyes like a film. 

"In summary," Bill slowly released the pliable flesh he'd been abusing in favor of straightening and smoothing his hideous suit jacket, "You repair that broken star of mine and I'll retrieve it when it's ready." "And Mabel?" Dipper touched at his reddened throat sorely. "Yes, yes. In the mean time, I think I'll stay here and watch over your progress. You _are_ pretty incapable. Can't have you killing yourself and throwing out my little prize while I'm not around!"

"Besides," The lanky figure perched itself comfortably against the couch, long arms draping over the back of the worn cushions, "Unlike you, I've got all the time in the world." Dipper scowled. The idea of having this...thing constantly over his shoulder, poking and prodding, biding it's time before it tore it's way into him was enough to drive him insane. He resolved himself nonetheless. He didn't care what Bill did, he'd let him lead him to the slaughter.

For Mabel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rule number 4: Don't shake his hand.
> 
> Is everyone following along with the Cipher Hunt? It's been so exciting!
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> This chapter's title has a double meaning:  
> 1) Dipper is wishing for something unobtainable. For a "Shooting Star."  
> 2) Bill seems to hold nothing but ill wishes for Dipper at this point.


	4. Probe

For a moment, it all seemed like an unbalanced dream. Like the crash of broken glass coming from downstairs was just the fault of gravity, or a mouse, or even a vengeful spirit. But as Dipper inspected his own reflection and the red marks around his throat it showed, he knew that the cause was much less benign.

An aggravated groan echoed off the bathroom walls. No, he wouldn't find any peace anymore, not with a deranged demon living in his house. The pills in his hands nearly bounced out of his palm, but he was shaking more out of rage than anything else. He took a deep breath and swallowed a mouthful of Diazepam. A few extra would only speed along the process.

Dipper left the bathroom, passing through his room, and noting the bluish light coming in from the window before starting downstairs. It was around 5:00AM and the sun hung lethargically below the horizon. The house was cool and comfortable in the early hours and Dipper would usually have used this time to read. However, the pleasant thought left him immediately as he came around the base of the stairs and into the living room.

Bare skin came down with a sandy crunch onto a broken and discarded picture frame. Dipper looked down, lifting his foot to see blood dripping from it and soaking into an old picture of the Mystery Shack. He hissed and pried the glass out of the small cut, "Fuck!"

"Good morning to you, too!" Bill's voice was as loud and shrill as ever, "You sure are creative with your greetings. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you weren't happy to see me!" Dipper glared as the blonde shook with laughter. He opened his mouth to respond that, in fact, he wasn't happy to see him at all, but his jaw fell slack.

Bill was seated in front of the bookshelves, his legs crossed and yellow jacket folded and resigned to the couch. He had pushed the crisp sleeves of his dress shirt up and pulled the first few buttons and bow tie loose as if he'd been hard at work. 

Well, he had been if the state of the room was anything to go by. Books, journals, and manuscripts littered the floor, creating a sheet of text and leaving the shelves nearly empty. Pages of Aztec history, studies of the mind, and star charts had been torn from their binding. Dipper realized in horror that many of the volumes had been defiled by a red pen. The same pen that was currently scratching notes and edits into his copy of the Necronomicon.

Forgetting about the small stain of blood he was now standing on, Dipper started making his way toward the mutilator. "What the hell are you doing?! Have you been at this all night?" He tripped over the empty shell of his favorite physics textbook, falling to his chest with a hard thud. With a little more effort, he reached up and snatched the text from Bill's hand, causing a red line to slash across the open pages. 

Bill glared down at him, with an irritated sniff, "I was reading." He reached out to catch the arm holding back his current project, "What else was I going to do in this horrible, boring place? I couldn't find a single animal or decent weapon anywhere, and, seeing as you were busy locking yourself in a box so that you could sleep your time away-" Dipper yanked his arm from Bill's grip, briefly considering if that sharp jaw would cut his knuckles if he dared to punch it. He pushed the thought away as he sat up and began to gather some of the remains, shoving them back into their shelves. "But, now that you're awake, you can start making me some sustenance."

Peeling his eyes away from the prominent red triangle that had been inked over one of his paperbacks, Dipper frowned. He stared at the indignant look on the demon's face, wondering if it was too late to just climb the stairs and go back to bed.

As if it was a reminder that he was waiting, Bill folded his wiry arms over his chest and watched intently as the books were put away. Once finished, Dipper stood, wobbling a bit on his feet. A hand roughly held him upright. "Thanks..." He mumbled, rubbing his head before turning to see the snarling glance the blonde shot his way. "If you starve out that star of mine..." A strange expression formed on Bill's face as he surveyed every visible inch of the willowy boy.

Dipper felt his cheeks heating under the intensity of those gold irises and turned his head away. "Y-yeah. Uhm..." He moved out from the shadow of the tall man, making his way into the kitchen, "Let's eat something." A warm pain was whizzing around in his chest like a wasp but he decided to ignore it.

* * *

He set two cups of coffee down on the wooden surface. Bill, who had taken his place at the table, reached out to take one. He took a few loud gulps before slamming the porcelain mug back down with a wide grin. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted!" Dipper scrunched his nose, dropping some day-old toast into the trash, but left it alone since Bill had gone back to drinking it.

Informally setting down a plate of fresh toast, Dipper joined his captor at the kitchen table. He took a piece, plucking at it uncertainly before taking a bite. "Instead of tearing up my things, you could sleep during the night.- You do need to sleep, don't you?" Bill had finished his coffee and started on Dipper's, seeming to favor it over food. "Maybe." "I see..." Tired brown eyes drifted away to peer at the hot peach sunlight that was making it's way through slits in the blinds.

"So," Dipper's curiosity was getting the better of him, and so was the horrible slurping sound that Bill was making, "If you don't like how the coffee tastes, then why don't you just... I don't know, make something better appear?" Bill finally pulled the long since empty mug from his lips. "Physical manipulation isn't my forte. I prefer to work in the mind." Despite the pleasantly stretched smile he was wearing, Dipper knew that he was leaving something out. He had seen the polygonal specter warp the physical world beyond recognition with his own eyes. "Does that mean that you can't use your powers while in this human vessel?"

A flame flickered behind Bill's narrow pupils, but he maintained his composure. "You ask too many questions." He began to scratch a black painted nail against the grainy surface of the table like he was attempting to file it into a point, "...Want to test that theory?" "No." Yes. Dipper wanted to test a lot of theories and ask a lot more questions. He wanted to know more about the spindly, terrifying, yet beautiful creature that held him in it's sticky web.

Something odd was churning painfully in his stomach, but he decided that it was just his overeager acids soaking up bits of toast. Bill finally took a couple large bites out of his own toast but stopped. "This has got to be the worst edible I have ever put inside of my mouth." "It's just toast, don't be so dramatic." But that churning wasn't stopping, instead it was starting to crawl up his throat.

Dipper rose from the table quite suddenly, his face turning cold and pale. "I don't feel so well..." Bill looked put out, motioning for him to sit back down. "You're not getting out of this nourishment ritual that easily, kid. If I have to endure it, then so do you,"

Ignoring and unhearing, Dipper left the kitchen at an uneven pace. He braced himself against the stair railing, feeling a leap in his abdomen. He could hear Bill following after him and turned back with a plea, "I just need to lay down." The demon's brow was furrowed and he was oddly silent and observant as he watched his human climb the steps crookedly.

Dipper burst into his bathroom, kneeling before the toilet, stomach lurching painfully. Tears burnt his eyes as he gagged, fruitlessly. "Purge it." The blonde now stood in the doorway, leaning against it's frame with a muted grin. Was Bill trying to help him?

Sweat was clinging to his skin as he finally managed to vomit out a fluid that was mostly brightly colored capsules and bile. Bill looked utterly disgusted by the display rather than finding it "funny" and, even as he struggled to stand, Dipper took note of this. 

He began to rinse his mouth out in the sink, shaking hands attaining the bottle of Xanax and fumbling with the cap. But, no matter how many he tried to swallow, he couldn't keep any down. His whole body was wracked with tremors of illness and anxiety. A defeated sob left Dipper's lips as he collapsed against the cold tile, curling in on himself.

Long legs, bent acutely to crouch next to the shuttering mess that was beneath them. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" The question seamed nearly genuine, despite the chuckle that followed it. Dipper rubbed some of the wetness from his eyes, reaching up and coming just short of the medication that he'd left on the edge of the sink. "I just need my pills. I want to go to sleep-"

A sigh left Bill's lungs, brushing against Dipper's clammy forehead as equally cold fingers moved his bangs aside. "Honestly, Pine Tree. You're such a miserable little creature." Long, inquisitive fingers that were constantly touching and prodding now raked through Dipper's hair, making him look up blearily at the blanched ceiling. They pressed hard against his skull, creating a dull thudding beneath until it felt as though they were slipping past bone and into his mind. 

With the slightest curve of a digit, an unknown switch was flipped. Dipper found himself falling out of his body, pulled away from reality by unseen arms, and sinking into a dark embrace that engulfed him entirely.

"Pitiful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill likes coffee.
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> This title is pretty self explanatory. While Dipper is probing Bill to appease his curiousity, the demon has begun to probe his mind.


	5. Gravitational Waves

Wood paneled walls smoldered, their embers cold and colorless. Still, the decay was climbing, trying to devour the room which Dipper sat in. He gripped his legs, head pressed against shaking knees. Unable to stop his gasping lungs and racing pulse, hot tears streaked down his face. Maybe it would be better to just give in and let it all burn.

"What a dump!~" Bill surveyed the Mindscape that dilapidated around them. A corner of the floor fell away to an endless black nothingness, grey furniture tilted and threatened to follow. He took a step away from crumbling hole, moving toward the foot of the bed that Dipper had curled up on. 

"Don't have a mental breakdown on me, kid.~" he sang, before his tone became curt, "No really, don't." He paused expectantly but Dipper failed to laugh or groan or respond in any way. A flat sigh escaped the demon's lungs as he purposefully snapped his fingers. The black and ashen walls obeyed, immediately healing themselves and filling their holes and cracks.

A calming sensation bloomed in Dipper's chest so suddenly that he lifted his head in surprise. Bill was grinning smugly at him as he came around to sit on the edge of the bed. "Are you done crying now?" His words dripped with mock sympathy as he stared down at red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks without remorse. Still, something in Dipper wanted to read into the gentle, soothing feeling that the dream demon had planted behind his ribs.

Bill seemed to notice this, to some extent, and reached out to pinch and yank at the placid face in reprimand. "I think I mentioned before, that I wouldn't tolerate any destruction of my prize." His toothy face darkened as he moved to stand, "You wouldn't be trying to break our deal, would you?" 

Dipper shook his head, slowly letting go of his knees. "Why did you bring me here? And why are you..." He looked over Bill's human form, wondering why he'd chosen to keep this organic shape in the freely manipulative space. Maybe he really was proud of the amalgamation he'd created. A shiver ran through his veins at the thought.

"I came for the star gazing." Bill smirked, pivoting on his heels and sauntering over to the crookedly hinged door. Turning the knob, he peered out into the twisted and misshapen halls of Dipper's mind. "Wow! Looks like a herd of three-legged brain beetles came munching through here! Hmm.~ Welp! It's got to be hiding somewhere in this mess!"

"Hey! Wait a second!" The brunette tripped over himself as he followed after the trespassing figure. 

The state of the structure resembled more of an abandoned building than a sanctuary of thought. Walls and floors were stained and slanted, the ceilings creaked and dripped in places, and the faint sound of rustling papers could be heard in the distance. 

Bill set a quick pace, doors and latches swinging themselves open as he passed to reveal the thoughts and memories they contained. Dipper cringed, snapshots of his entire life stood on display for prying golden eyes, but a nagging sense of inquiry about seeing this...thing inside of him kept him from protesting.

For awhile, there was silence between the two as they walked, Bill looking gradually more impatient and Dipper more uncomfortable. Embarrassing childhood mishaps, awkward teen years, and failed attempts at being social flickered on either side of the brunette like a gag-inducing slideshow. They climbed a few flights of stairs and navigated several sharply angled  
halls before coming to a four-way split in the path. 

Bill's voice was practically hysterical, all of his joints tensing at once. "What is THIS?! I thought you were supposed to be an organized little freak! If I get lost in here because of this, I'm going to torture you from inside this MindMAZE for all eternity! I swear, if I find myself in one more circular pathway-" 

The outburst continued, but it was directed more toward the precariously shaped walls than to their creator. Dipper mused that Bill was probably used to consistently getting his way in the Mindscape. He wondered why the demon didn't float through the passageways, quick as lightning, instead of trudging on two legs at a modest pace. He'd seen him do it in the past... Just how constricted were his powers in this form?

As Bill's tantrum dissolved from throwing his hands up and insulting the monochrome architecture to kicking dents in a wall and cursing in otherworldly languages, Dipper glanced away disinterestedly. His focus fell into the open doorway on his left. The memory of an argument with Stan and Ford played out like an old home video.

_The three remaining pines were standing in a face off on the steps of the Mystery Shack. "Dipper, you can't just leave. What are you going to do in California? With Shermie and your parents gone..." Dipper glared and pushed his box of things past Stan. "Look, I know how you're feeling, having just lost Mabel. But we're the only family you've got left, kid! Are you just going to turn your back and run away like a coward?"_

_Dipper paused at the bottom of the stairs, shoulders stiff, and back turned to his grunkles, his home, and everything that he had left. An extra wide hand took hold of his arm, tugging him back a step. "You can't make it out there alone right now, think rationally!" The nineteen year old tore away from Stanford's hand, meeting the grief hardened faces with a furious look of his own._

_"Don't tell me how I FEEL. Don't tell me what I should THINK! You will NEVER understand what it's like for me to lose her. She meant more to me than she did to either of YOU!" Dipper's body was starting to shake, "I DON'T EVER WANT TO HEAR YOU SPEAK ABOUT HER AGAIN!"_

_His great uncles' eyes were wide, but they didn't say anything. They only watched as Dipper stormed off, throwing his belongings into the passenger seat of his car, and speeding away from the Shack for good._

Dipper looked away from the memory, something sticky like guilt clinging to the back of his throat as he swallowed.

He looked up just in time to see that Bill had finally choose a direction using an unholy rendition of 'Eeny-Meeny-Miny-Moe' and followed after him. Aside from the regret he was now feeling, an unpleasant sensation was wriggling it's way under Dipper's skin. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea- We should go back. If we haven't found it yet, then we probably...won't..."

The rest of his words died off as the they came to a stop before a massive, black door. It's morbid frame was nearly twice as wide and three times as tall as the others. Several haphazardly placed and rotten planks had been nailed in place to prevent entry and a hastily scratched warning hung dead center reading: 'KEEP OUT.'

A giddy, screeching laugh shook Dipper out of the mesmerized gaze he was sending the wooden obstruction. "Aha! This has got to be it! This monstrosity has Sixer's mind-alternating nerd tactics written all over it!" Bill wrapped his knuckles against the door a few times, leaning in and listening for a response.

Every hair on Dipper's skin was on end. The pitter-patter of disembodied whispers was coming up either end of the long hall, Illegible threats and warnings on their tongues. "Bill?" Dipper took a precarious step back, growing more and more uneasy, "We shouldn't..." His pleas went unheard as Bill was busy yanking the flimsy boards off one by one.

With a creak and groan of the rusty nails, the last board splintered and the colossal door swung open. Every ounce of blood in Dipper's body seemed to drain and he paled. 

The scene that played out before him was all shiny, twisted metal, scraped paint, and bits of broken glass. The two vehicles and their drivers were mangled and tangled together in an abstract form that defied both gravity and mortality. 

And then there was the blood.

Spilling out and soaking into dirty asphalt, it clung to the bumpers and the crosswalk lines and the bright pink sweater. A crushed and bloodied form that vaguely resembled his sister lay pinned between the cars. Mabel was dead.

Dipper wanted to look away, he wanted to cry, but his body wouldn't move and his lungs had forgotten how to breathe. His past self, however, screamed in the stillness of the intersection, inconsolable and desperate. _"MABEL!"_

"That's it?!" Dipper jerked his head around to see Bill beside him, fuming. The demon slammed the heavy door shut in frustration, "Why is your head full of so many useless memories?" Useless? Dipper couldn't take it anymore. He curled his fingers tightly, swinging them into a cutting cheekbone without hesitation- or forethought.

Bill blinked a few times, blindsided by the punch. Fluid oozed from the split in his cheek, darker than ink and twice as thick. Long fingers swiped at the blood before holding it out for wide eyes and tight pupils to inspect. Dipper panted, his heart racing and fingers burning.

In a blur of motion, the demon had him pinned against the floor, one hand pressing painfully into his left shoulder and the other taking a fistful of brown locks. Manic laughter left a dangerously wiry maw, molten gold eyes staring down with deranged amusement. Dipper made a move to struggle but it was returned by a thrashing of his skull against the solid surface. 

His eyes swam dizzily, unconsciousness edging in the corners of his vision. Bill yanked his hair back, exposing a vulnerable throat and coaxing out a fearful whimper. 

"Don't forget your place, you weak little sack of flesh." The words fell dark and searing on his ears, "You are MINE. I don't care what kind of _feelings_ you think you have toward Shooting Star, if you don't start to show a little appreciation for how..." Bill's grip found it's way to Dipper's jaw, roughly squeezing the bone for emphasis, " _kind_ I'm being, then you'll never see that selfish bitch again."

All ten black-tipped fingers wrapped around Dipper's neck, slowly constricting like a noose of bone and skin. The captured boy gasped, his own digits clawing uselessly at taut forearms. A sly smile glowered down at him, Bill's voice lifting to a lighter, more pleasant pitch, "Are we clear?~" Dipper managed to choke out an agreement before lack of air pulled him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Sorry, not sorry.~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> Gravitational waves are ripples in space caused by the collision and/or collapse of massive objects.
> 
> When these objects collide, the gravitational waves can forever change the space and time around them.
> 
> You know, like a really impactful car crash.


	6. Constellation

Brown eyes opened wide like gaping mouths, constricted lungs gasping and filling with air. Dipper sat up in his bed, gripping and rubbing at his throat but found that he was no longer suffocating. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself, "It was just a dream."

Only, that wasn't entirely true. Something very sentient and sadistic had followed him out of his dreams and the memory of the pain he'd felt as his trachea collapsed, he realized, was a very real possibility. An odd question about the significance of dying in your dreams teased at his curiosity but he pushed it away, replacing it with a more copper-tasting question: When Bill finally did pry his soul from his body, would it be so slow and excruciating? Would it be worse? Like a child playing with their food before-

A short 'beep' stirred him from his thoughts, signaling that the hour had rolled over. "7:00AM" How long had he been out then? An hour? A day? Dipper frowned, the ache and restlessness in his joints agreeing with the latter.

When had these insipid movements become routine? Waking up hidden away in an unlit room, consulting the clock for a sense of reality, then medicating it away. A part of him wished that he could just forget about everything and sleep forever, but the image of Bill's smug and jagged face hovering close to his own as the air left his lungs ruined that notion.

Pushing his heavy and sore body out of bed, Dipper looked down at the crumpled fabric that clung to him. He was still wearing the same thing that he'd put on the day before. A slight glance back at the sheets had him wondering if Bill had carried him there. Bill, a demon of chaos and destruction who seemed to want nothing more than to torment, maim, and kill... Had carried him to bed. The thought made a foreign and uncomfortable feeling flutter in his throat and he resolved not to think about it anymore.

With a sluggish stretch of creaking arms above his head, he made a move toward the bathroom but paused. Tentative fingers rubbed at his chest. Somehow, a part of the soothing heat that Bill had planted there before was still pulsing beneath, sticking to his bones like a residue. Despite everything that he had seen, heard, and felt while in the mindscape, Dipper realized that he wasn't anxious.

As he stared into the open doorway of the pitch, tiled room, the memory of regurgitated chemicals stung at his tongue. Maybe it was a good idea to skip his morning dose anyway.

Still pondering the dull throbbing in his ribs, Dipper descended the stairs. A muddled sense of fear and hatred tried to mix with gratitude, like hot oil and chilled water, but only resulted in a confused frown. He almost stopped on the last few steps, unsure if he wanted to see the demon or hide from him.

"Oh. There you are, Pine Tree." Bill's words fell flat as he glanced over with a neutral and unreadable expression. Dipper swallowed, suddenly aware of his own presence. The look he was shot was bored and listless but the golden irises seared themselves into his skin all the same. It was like staring at the sun and, after awhile, he had to turn his gaze away. For a moment, an oddly still tension settled in between them.

Bill shifted a bit on his side of the living room before he began unbutton and remove his shirt. "W-what are you doing?" Dipper's tone was meant to be demanding but it cracked and came out like shock. He inwardly cursed himself, blood rising to his cheeks as his eyes trailed over pale skin etched with dark lines. 

Glyphs and triangles and bands of black ink wrapped themselves around the blonde's upper arms. An unabashed rendition of Bill's own summoning circle, large and ornate, displayed between his wide shoulders. It all looked way too eccentric.

Then again, Bill did have a flashy sort of narcissism. Still, Dipper couldn't imagine the monster of a man just waltzing pleasantly into a tattoo parlor and then sitting still for hours as he let a human inflict pain on him. The image of a shop owner being torn to ribbons, blood spraying the walls as their flesh and bones were devoured by sharp teeth and ravenous claws popped into his head, and it felt more accurate.

A familiar yet condescending grin split across Bill's features as he turned to fully face him. "Like what you see, kid?" Dipper fumbled indignantly, having been caught staring. "N-no! I- Why are you... Put your clothes back on!" Bill hummed contently at his reaction and tossed his dress shirt to the flustered boy. "No can do. Thanks to the horribly unsustainable ways of human 'innovation,' my clothes need to be washed. So, you know," slim digits snapped impatiently, "Get to it."

* * *

The angry racket of an old machine beating itself against the wall filled the echoey space of the garage. Dipper sighed, turning a sickeningly yellow coat over in his hands, but the change of perspective didn't help him to come up with a way to clean it. He had never been very good at housework.

Deciding against adding it to the laundry, Dipper placed the jacket on top of the rattling washing machine in defeat. When had he become a personal maid? At least he'd had the mind to add a few armfuls of his own clothing in with Bill's single white button-down. Did the sadistic blonde actually expect him to continue washing the same shirt over and over again?

Speak of the devil...

The tall figure appeared in the door frame wearing only a loose and unfastened pair of slacks. "Is it done yet?" Bill prodded, lazily leaning against the wood trim at his right side. Dipper kept his gaze lowered at the machine, awkwardly avoiding another glimpse of taught, exposed skin. "No. It'll run for around two hours, plus drying time." The groan that Bill released sounded more like it belonged to a spoiled child than an all powerful dream demon. 

"That's ridiculous!" he growled, brow knitting together before suddenly easing as he switched gears. "Fine. In the mean time, I want something to eat. This human flesh bag is bothersome and constantly needs to be refueled. I don't know how you apes can willingly waste so much time eating." 

Dipper rolled his eyes, passing the rambling blonde and moving into the kitchen. Bill followed at his heels, his voice showing no sign of stopping, "Then again, by the looks of it, you seem to have no problem with neglecting that instinct. What kind of tree are you trying to be? Not quite a sapling, but you sure are twiggy!" 

Bill seemed more than pleased with his own joke, laughing loudly as he tauntingly groped at the shorter man's lean forearm. Dipper swatted the hand away, feeling increasingly apprehensive about physical contact with the partially dressed creature. He opened the fridge, leaning in to inspect its contents. 

There wasn't much to look at, however. A bottle of mustard, half a quart of milk, and one moldy tomato stared back at him. "I'm out of food..." Dipper mumbled, a tired scowl settling in. He didn't have the budget to feed one, let alone two. 

Bill's mood faltered a bit before he piped up, "Well then, go and get more." "I can't. I don't have the money. Maybe we can order a discount pizza..." Dipper trailed off, his frown hardening as Bill began to snicker. 

"My poor, poor little Pine Tree." he reprimanded through exposed and smiling teeth, reaching out to pinch at a warm cheek, "Don't go crying on me. Your benevolent lord and master will take care of everything. And, even though I'd prefer that we just steal food, I'll settle with paying- for your sake." A mocking glint shone in those slanted eyes as he flaunted a few wicked rows of blanched white bone.

Regardless of the empty groaning in his stomach, Dipper instantly knew a bad idea when he heard one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to always feed and walk your demons.
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> As boring as it seems, the title is referring to Bill's tattoo. Patterns?  
>  ~~I'm tired, please don't think about it too much.~~


	7. Hydrogen and Helium

Crisp air, warm glowing light, the sound of birds chirping above; just the makings of a migraine, as far as Dipper was concerned. Although, he hadn't always carried that sentiment. He had moved here, to the woods of Northern California, for the peaceful atmosphere and solitude. The dense foliage and earthy smells had felt like home, if nothing else. 

But, somewhere along the line, tranquillity had been replaced with over sensitivity. Now the outside world only brought him discomfort in the form of light and sound. Dipper wanted nothing more than to go back inside; to return to his darkness. Maybe he truly _had_ become a recluse...

Too much thinking was only making him more sour. Still, he couldn't shake the discontented frown that hung on his face. 

Mechanically, the ragged and disheveled boy unlocked his once blue (now a dusty brownish color) Forester before climbing into the driver's seat. He glanced at his own reflection in the rear view mirror. Unruly hair, pale skin, and sunken eyes looked back tiredly. Not exactly a convincing charade of normalcy- or sanity, for that matter. At least he'd managed to wear a clean shirt, he reasoned as hasty hands attempted to flatten the wrinkled clothing. Taking a deep breath of resolve, he purposefully placed his hands on the forgotten steering wheel. 

It was just a quick trip to the grocery store. He could do this.

The slam of the passenger door beside him stirred Dipper from his nervous thoughts. He stole a glance at the devil wrapped in human flesh as he folded himself abstractly to try and fit his body into the seat diagonally. Bill's shock of gold hair and formal attire made a better attempt than Dipper's own at looking presentable, but his wild eyes and razor toothed grin where unmistakably inhuman. 

Dipper wanted to believe that this would be easy. He tried to imagine Bill behaving himself as he walked amongst the unsuspecting shoppers. However, the image quickly melted away into madness: the store shelves thrashed, people screaming, blood streaking Bill's face as he tore curiously at an employee before finally fishing out a pulsing organ triumphantly. 

He couldn't do this.

"Hey." Dipper hardly heard the word over the manic laughter ringing in his head. "Heeey, Pine Treeeee!" Bill tried again, adding a few jabs to the dazed boy's shoulder. Dipper blinked, finally turning to face the source of the impatient jabbing. "What?" "Let's getting going already! I'm hungry _now!_ I can't wait for you to have the existential daydream, which you were obviously indulging in."

Swallowing back his agitation like nausea, Dipper stiffly turned himself in his seat in an attempt to face the expectant blonde. "There are some things we need to talk about first- Some...terms." Though Bill's expression faltered, he seemed attentive enough. "What kind of 'terms.'" Was that a question? 

Dipper shook the thought away and cleared his throat. "When we go to the store, there will be people-" "I know what a market is." Bill interrupted, his lips pulling into an offended line. "I know, just- Just listen to me." Dipper sighed, rubbing at the dull thudding beneath his temples. 

The tall figure slumped farther down in his seat, making himself more comfortable. Dipper hoped that meant he would remain quiet for a few moments. "When we go in, you can't eat, break, or maim anything or anyone. Don't say anything weird or yell prophetic gibberish. I want to get in an out of there as quickly and uneventfully as possible." Worried lips rubbed together thoughtfully before amending with a short "Please."

A low, stale laugh left the blonde. "No." Dipper's migraine was really beating at his skull now. "W-what do you mean 'no?'" "I _mean_ , why would I agree to that? Parading around like an obedient and simple little humanoid would take all the fun out of it. And you should know that I don't do..." Bill sniffed, "Obedient. No, I'd just as soon eat a few of the unsuspecting flesh sacks and call this food hunt a success."

The nightmarish images were getting easier for Dipper's mind to conjure up. He stared at the creature before him in a state of shock, unsure of how to go about preventing the death of innocent people and wondering if he even could. 

Bill smirked easily, watching the horrified look stutter across his human's face. "That is," he began to speak slowly when he came to the conclusion that the other wouldn't, "unless you have something to offer me in return?"

Blinking out of his fearful stupor, Dipper quickly scrambled to think of anything he could offer. "I-I'll cook for you when we get back?" He tried, leaning forward in earnest. "Obviously." came the sneer of a response. "I-I...uh..." he fumbled for words that slipped away like goldfish through his fingers, "The couch can't be all that comfortable for someone of your...height. Y-you could sleep upstairs tonight?" "Try harder.~" Bill was all enamel as he gleeful taunted.

He was enjoying this way too much for Dipper's comfort. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "If you swear to control yourself at the grocery store, I will take you to buy some new clothing afterward. Y-you know, so you don't have to keep wearing the same thing..." His voice managed to fall away again as large, bright eyes locked on his own. The heat flashing in those irises stung like the sun, causing him to turn away after only a moment of contact.

"Hm." The slant body leaned in to meet Dipper's in the tight confines on the car's interior, making him recognize that he'd been inclined toward it. Before he could shift his way back, far back against the driver's door and possibly out of the car altogether, a hand snatched hold of one of his own. "It's a deal then."

Frazzled and shaken, the brunette tore his fingers away from the handshake like the bear trap it was. He elected to use it to quickly turn the key in the ignition instead, a joyless smile pulling at his tired face. "Great..."

* * *

A groaning vehicle pulled off of the tree-lined highway and into the small parking lot of the local Aspen Mart. The antisocial sinking feeling in Dipper's gut was churning acidicly as he scanned the cars and people wandering between them. Unsuspecting people who were unaware of the danger Dipper was putting them in by releasing this chaos into the outside world. But, at that point, anything would have been better than to stay in the car with Bill any longer.

Despite his desperate pleas to 'sit down and buckle up,' Dipper had failed at controlling the impulsive man as he drove. Bill had refused to stay in his designated seat and slunk about the car as he pleased. He moved to rummage in the backseat, leaned his torso out of the car, and even bent over Dipper at one point to look out his window. Dipper could have used that dose of Diazepam right about then but he would have settled for at least an aspirin.

Waking the brunette from his self pity, Bill leapt suddenly from the moving car. Dipper scrambled to finish parking before chasing after him. "Hey! Don't just jump out of the car like that! What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!" He had caught up to the tall man but was already struggling to keep up with his long strides. Bill smiled, placing a long hand across Dipper's shoulder blades and pushing him along to keep pace. "No, of course not.~" He said, tone steady and sweet although, his wicked laugh betrayed the facade, "I'm just... Well, hungry mostly. Only trying to speed up the process!"

Dipper sighed. At least this would all be over quickly.

Cold air and artificial light washed over them as they stepped through the automatic doors. Bill seemed to make a full sweep of the place in the span of a neck-popping turn of his head. Dipper tried to casually make a head count of the people milling through the isles while wrestling a shopping cart out from the mouth of it's twin with a forceful yank. He turned to remind Bill of his promise to behave, but found himself staring at the empty space that he'd been occupying only a moment before.

He looked up, spotting the lanky limbs headed toward the meat coolers. An exhausted groan mixed with the screeching of a crooked wheel on the cart as he pushed it after Bill.

It was almost funny, how brazen Bill could be about his compulsions. The blonde excitedly pressed his index finger into each red, bloodied, and plastic wrapped specimen before him. His eyes were bright with the enthusiasm of a child. 

Dipper wasn't enthused. He leaned heavily on the shopping cart's handle. "Hurry up and pick one- Bill!" His eyes widened as a black claw-like nail poked straight through the seal of a rather large cut of beef, wiggling around in the yielding fibers. "Don't do that! We have to pay for things we open." He reluctantly lifted the thing, setting it into the cart. 

"Really..." Bill sent an odd sideways glance, before continuing down the isle, aimlessly poking holes in some of the packages as he went. As expected, the little stunt had Dipper weakly chastising him and mumbling about wasting food as he hurriedly gathered the perforated meats. 

"Oh man, your reaction is hilarious." Bill's cackling echoed off the linoleum causing a few sets of judgmental eyes to shift their way. He watched for awhile with a pleasant curve of his lips as the vertically challenged human struggled to reach the spilling meats on the top shelf. "How cute."

Dipper refused to acknowledge the taunting, focusing instead on maneuvering his elbow in a way that he might get to the back of the tall cooler. He was suddenly more than aware of the irritating fact that his arms hadn't grown since high school. Pushing himself as far into the coppery smelling plastic casing as he could, his fingertips were still unable to make contact. 

He flinched, nearly losing his balance and collapsing into the soggy cuts of animal flesh when he he felt his cheek met by a pair of slimy...lips? Dipper took a wary step back, finding himself face to face with a dead eyed fish. It's cold lips moved with the aid of the fingers burrowed deep inside it's gills. "Don't ignore me, Pine Tree." The puppet carcass said.

"Uhg, Bill!" the brunette fumed, his face heating from what he was sure was anger even as he consciously lowered his voice to a hush, "What are you doing?! You said that you wouldn't destroy things!" The fish convulsed as the long fingers pulled themselves from the torn, sinewy hole they'd dug in its underbelly. "I can't help it. I always play with my food." Bill carelessly dropped the corpse into the shopping cart. 

Dipper scrunched his nose at the unsettling undertone in those words. "Can't you act civilized for five minutes?" Blood, scales, and visceral were wiped across the white dress shirt that had been washed a mere hour ago. "Ha! I practically _invented_ civilization!" Bill roughly slammed his cleaned hand down on the shopping cart, dramatically and loudly tittering even as Dipper's posture slumped further, "Been trying to break it down slowly ever since!" With a stretch of a spider-like arm and another thump, the unattainable, slopping meat was added to the grim pile of remains that they were collecting.

Seeing as the Bill wasn't showing any signs of recognition or concern for Dipper's deteriorating mood, he released an agitated sigh and maneuvered past him. Had he really expected this twisted monster to be attentive to anything but his own amusements? There was no reason to feel to disappointed. 

Right.

Bill kept up his one-sided chatting while Dipper navigated the store, retrieving the essentials. A few anomalies made their way into the basket, however. More junk food wrapped in brightly colored plastic than was necessary, an odd, pink, and pickled substance suspended in a jar, and several bottles of cheap black nail polish.

So much for the mental list Dipper had been keeping. "We don't need all of this." he tried. Bill was precariously tossing a bottle of liquor between his hands. "You can never have enough snacks!" "And this?" Dipper lifted one of the polishes, shaking it slightly for emphasis. Bill only shrugged, "Nail polish makes for a perfectly good snack as well."

A small puff of laughter left Dipper's lungs at the ridiculous idea, despite himself.

When they finally reached the register, Bill took the lead. Making a show, whether it was meant for Dipper or himself, he swiped his flashy gold card theatrically before leaving Dipper to carry the bags back to the car.

It left a strange taste on Dipper's tongue, playing house with the dangerous and fascinating creature. The same creature that he hated and distrusted more than anything or anyone else. The creature who was eagerly biding its time until it could tear him to bits to get what it wanted.

Why then, was the flavor so sweet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's pretty fluffy.
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> Good old hydrogen and helium. Food of the stars.


	8. Orion

Unsuspecting wood groaned and bent before the front door yielded, allowing itself to be kicked in. The knob bounced noisily off of the wall again, the surface were it collided was already starting to show damage. 

"Oh boy, was that awful!" A boisterous voice called out to the dark and empty house as they stepped inside. "I hope you enjoyed our little adventure, because I certainly didn't." Bill only took a few steps into the hall before dropping the plastic bags he had looped over his long arms to the floor. He looked down at the bags cynically for a moment but the form that stumbled over them earned his attention instead.

Dipper righted himself, face nearly hitting the kitchen doorframe as he tripped on the bags of clothing. He opted to ignore the condescending snicker his potential concussion earned and lugged the groceries toward the fridge.

"I don't know what you're so upset about," he mumbled as he went about the task of setting boxes, jars, and cans on the counter, "you got everything you wanted." A gelatinous substance left over from the weeping meat dripped from the bottom of the bag that Dipper had just emptied. It hit the tile floor with wet thuds as he inspected the hole. His eye reluctantly followed the trail of blood back out of the room and around the corner. He cringed, realizing the gory mess he'd have to sop up.

Shiny, black Oxfords stepped through the sticky fluid, tracking it further over the surface as they moved closer to the source. "Ha!" The sauntering blonde quipped, "I always get what I want. Nothing especially enjoyable about that." Dipper frowned at him, turning back to stuff food into the cupboards even as Bill continued. "All I'm saying is that a little appreciation on your part for my effort wouldn't be so bad. It really is such a burden to act so dull and monotonous. I don't know _how_ you do it."

The lights flickered on and off, off and on. Dipper didn't need to look back to know whose fingers were working the light switch. "I drove you around so that you could buy clothing, didn't I?" he offered, haphazardly shoving the remaining items into the empty refrigerator, "What else do you want?"

"Oh Pine Tree, don't ask me that. You won't like the answer." Bill spread a toothy and dangerous grin across his face as he eyed the human. Maybe it really was best not to press any further. Dipper was glad at least that he'd stopped playing with the switch, leaving the room coated in pale light. Though, he had to blink a bit to adjust to the brightness. 

When the spots in his vision dissipated, Dipper found himself staring up at Bill Cipher's human form. The unnatural figure loomed over him, eyes raking over his skin so deep it stung. "What-" he clamped his mouth shut, flinching away instinctively as an inquisitive hand reached out for him. But those hands were quick to catch his face before he could retreat any further.

He swallowed roughly, throat rubbing like sandpaper, as he was made to look up into the all seeing eye once again. Those golden orbs flickered back and forth earnestly as Bill prodded his face. Fingers rubbed curiously at dark sunken rings, thumbs pressed against sharp cheekbones, and palms held a trembling jaw in place. Something like concern or disappointment soured Bill's odd expression as he slowly released the paltry skin. 

"I'm hungry." he stated, so suddenly that it caused the brunette to jump. Dipper's grip on the situation slipped leaving him to gape in a confused haze. Bill met his stare with a firm and expectant one of his own. 

"R-right." he finally managed, shaking his head in a poor attempt to reorder his thoughts, "I'll make us something to eat. But first, you should take a shower. You smell like...fish and...death." Bill didn't seem bothered by the idea but wrinkled his nose when he sniffed at his stained shirt. 

Eager to finally burn the offending clothing, Dipper led Bill upstairs. "Come on." he gestured lazily, when the other stopped just shy of the bathroom, "I'll show you how it works." "I know how to use a primitive human cleansing box." Bill frowned. "Oh." Dipper felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment. Of course an all knowing multidimensional demon would be able to work out how to operate a water faucet.

"I'm getting tired of you making deals you won't keep, Pine Tree. I was promised dinner." the blonde all but pouted as he dejectedly crossed his arms over his chest. Dipper moved past him, holding up his hands in defense, "I know, I know. And I'm going to make it while you're cleaning up. Promi- Trust me."

Despite the unconvinced hum he received, the demon seemed to settle with the idea and Dipper left before he could complain any more. Moving down the steps quickly and quietly, he stood absolutely still in the dim house and listened until he heard the shush of the shower head above. His lungs let out a bated sigh. The migraine and ache of tensed muscles he'd been enduring began to sooth. He was grateful to finally be left alone and resolved that he would enjoy this moment of peace while it lasted.

* * *

As far as he could tell, Dipper wasn't a good cook by any means. He was able to create eatable meals, for the most part at least, and that made him above average for a Pines. Still, the soggy bowls of macaroni and cheese he set on the table served as a reminder of how low that standard truly was.

An impatient Bill seemed unaware or uncaring of this fact. He abruptly yanked a chair out, hardly able to sit down in it before he was forking yellow goop and noodles into his mouth. Dipper cringed at his animalistic eating habits but noted appreciatively that Bill had been ridded of the reek of death and was at least clean. 

Wet, blonde hair stuck to his forehead and dripped onto his fresh white dress shirt and stark yellow sweater vest. Dipper eyed the obnoxiously tinted fabric, wondering who else would ever wear something so tacky. It didn't matter; at least they'd been able to find clothing fitting enough for the uniquely gaunt shape Bill flaunted.

Metallic irises locked onto glassy brown ones again. Dipper internally cursed himself for being caught staring so often, immediately breaking his gaze to look at the faded and scuffed tabletop. Despite his impulsive shifting, he could still feel those eyes boring into him like they always did.

"Pine Tree." The brunette flinched at the cold and confrontational tone but met Bill's face anyway. "Yes?" "Eat." Bill gestured with his fork to the untouched portion, annoyance clear on his sharp features. Dipper took up his own utensil hastily. "O-oh. Yeah. Sorry..."

The food felt heavy and bruising in his stomach, but Dipper managed to finish off a good portion of the meal. He left the rest to the ravenous demon before gathering the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. The foreign sensation of eating so much made his body sluggish, but he'd endure it. He'd just have to get used to eating normally again, he reasoned.

"I think I'm going to take a shower now." he announced to the man fiddling with an orange at the kitchen table. He reached out to take the fruit, scrapping a section of the peel off before handing it back sympathetically. Bill, having a better vantage over his prey, now tore at the fruit's skin mercilessly. A small foreign smile tugged at dipper's lips, "Try not to break anything while I'm gone." "I'll break whatever I damn well please.~" the demon sung, sinking his sharp teeth into sweet flesh. 

Dipper's relaxed smile vanished as quickly as his anxious frown returned. However, Bill's posture was loose and his words held no venom so they were begrudgingly accepted.

Idly chewing on bits of acidic orange peel, Bull listened to the turbulent percussion symphony of the water running above. He spat the thing out after it lost its novelty, lazily stretching his arms out over the wooden surface. "Still not used to eating with a mouth." he mused, scanning the dull and featureless room. "Oh man! I don't remember ever being so bored with human anatomy!" 

His outburst went unheard in the empty space so he tilted back in his chair, staring up at the bumpy ceiling. He entertained the thought that his boredom was born from the fundamental difference between possessing an inhabited body and simply residing in a hollow one. The excitement of deception and control were missing and the void of something to twist and torment and squeeze left his limbs twitching restlessly.

Though, he did have one pawn still tethered to his strings. An unsuspecting and vulnerable creature, easily within his reach. 

He stood immediately, mind set on snatching up a slippery and uncooperative Pine Tree, but halted when he heard a strangled sound. Golden orbs rolled over to scrutinize the rhythmic buzzing. On the counter, near the discarded keys, lay an angrily trembling cell phone. 

Snatching up the thing, he pressed on the illuminated LCD screen without hesitation. "Y'ello?" he answered loudly, holding the phone to his ear. There was a beat of silence before a gruff voice finally came through. "Who is this?" "I believe that's my line. After all, you're the one calling me!" Bill grinned, perching himself on the countertop with an absolutely murderous grin cracking his face in two. "Right, Fordsie?"

The noisy shuffling of something toppling over muffled the sound on the other end of the line. Bill waited patiently, inspecting the chips of paint missing from his nails. "Where is my grand nephew- Where is Dipper?" the voice demanded, panic only partially masked by it's threatening tone. "He's...unavailable at the moment. You got a message for him?" "No. I want to speak with him. Now." 

Bill clicked his tongue in reprimand mentally sorting through his collection of stinging responses like they were notes on index cards. He chuckled to himself, settling on a jab at his old pawn's pride. "What's the rush? After _so many_ months of neglectful silence, surely you can wait a little longer." Satisfied, he pulled the phone away to hang up before Stanford could properly respond.

"Bill? What are you doing with my phone..." Dipper walked in on the bizarre scene, his face slowly morphing in realization as he stared at the wicked grin on the demon's face. "W-who are you talking to?" he whispered hoarsely, taking a cautious step forward. Bill only leaned back against the cupboards, bringing the phone back up to listen to the end of a series of hostile words.

Dipper realized in horror that the insufferable nagging he could just barely pick up from the distant speaker was familiar. No, he _knew_ that tone. 

In a mad dash fueled by panic, Dipper attempted to snatch the phone. Bill hardly batted an eye, easily dodging and weaving his way away from desperate hands as he stood. 

The gravely voice, ignorant of their silent struggle, sighed. "If you don't tell me who you are, so help me, I'll get in my car and drive down there RIGHT NOW." Dipper's eyes widened, having caught enough muffled syllables to piece together the threat. The last thing he needed was an unwanted visit from his paranoid great uncle.

Seemingly fed up with the brunette's struggling, Bill effectively tackled and pinned him against the cold, hard floor. "Who am I? I'm-" the self-praising smile plastered across his face faltered and cracked for a moment, before returning anew, "I'm Dipper's boyfriend."

"What?!" Both Pines' voices echoed in unison. The blonde laughed sadistically at the obscene shade of red discoloring Dipper's face. "Suuure.~ I'm all he thinks about. Poor little thing's madly in love with me." A knee digging purposefully in the brunette's forearm kept him from getting the upper hand. He groaned as the blunt bone painfully crushed his arm. 

"Dipper? Is that you?" Stanford's voice called out clearly but Bill spoke over it, eyes shining mischievously, "In fact, we're having sex right now." Something like a choking sound came through the line. "Yep. The kid can't come to the phone right now. Sorry old man." 

That was far enough. In an awkward kicking motion, Dipper managed to knock his phone from the demon's grasp. He scrambled to retrieve the mobile, his captor letting him up without protest. It seemed that Bill was content with the damage he'd done and now only observed smugly. Dipper glared at him, trying to look less vulnerable than he felt.

* * *

"S-sorry, Ford."  
"..."  
"He's uh...well. It's complicated."  
"..."  
"No no, don't come down here. Everything's fine."

Dipper bit his lip in a bid to hold back the flood of frustration. Stanford hadn't stopped shouting, hadn't stopped demanding answers despite Dipper's best efforts to calm him. Finally, he gave up. "You know what? I don't have the patience right now to deal with the both of you. Talk to you later." He jabbed at the screen and the line finally went dead.

"Well, that was fun." Bill declared. Turbulent lines creased Dipper's flushed face but he kept it turned away from the other as he stood. "I don't want to hear anything coming from you." he clutched his cell tightly, "I'm going to bed." 

Stomping off to his room was a childish indulgence, but Dipper didn't care. _It felt good._ He shoved his bedroom door open, making to slam it soundly behind himself.

Instead, the door bounced off of an obstruction. Bill retracted his fingers, shaking them sorely as he stood in the frame. Dipper's eyes narrowed darkly. "Can't you take a hint? What do you think you're doing?" he spat through clenched teeth. "You promised that I could stay upstairs tonight." the blonde stated simply, amiably rocking on his heels. "No I didn't-"

Rubbing at his face with an exasperated groan, the tormented and weary brunette hardened his resolve. "You want to sleep up here? Fine!" He pushed at the tall figure until they reached the door across the hall. The guest room was forced open, clamorously breaking it's seal. Dipper gestured curtly at it. "Here. Have at it. Just- Stay away from me!"

The resounding crash of the bedroom door meeting it's frame shook the walls, followed by a more subtle click as the lock rolled over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important!  
> I'll be missing next weekend's update because I'll be at a convention. But don't worry! Astrophiliac will return the weekend after that.
> 
> Thanks for your patience and all of your lovely comments! They mean a lot to me. c:
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> Orion is Ford's constellation representation.  
> Here's why:
> 
> In Middle-earth mythology (something Ford references a few times), Orion is known as Menelvagor meaning "The Swordsman in the Sky."
> 
> In the episode, Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons, Ford wears a Lord of the Rings-esk costume with a gold belt and fiery sword. 
> 
> In journal 3, Ford lists Orion as one of his favorite constellations (the other two being William [Bill] and Ursa Major [Dipper]).


	9. Oculus Boreus

Long, slim digits swiped over a slant headboard, sifting the collected dust between their fingertips. Bill surveyed the claustrophobic room he'd been allotted with little interest. The small space was stale with unuse and muted by a film of dust. 

A sparse collection of boxes pressed themselves against the baseboards and hugged the corner across from the old, rickety bed. They were piled neatly and sealed with tape. Bill cracked one open curiously, fishing out several old photographs. Frozen moments of time, most shared between the young Pines twins, lay caught in ink and gloss. He rolled his eyes, tossing the images back into their tomb and tutting in disappointment. "More useless memories."

Opening the closet door, Bill found only a small set of drawers hidden inside. He carelessly tossed the paperwork they held to the floor, filling them instead with the clothing he'd hauled up the stairs. He wondered if Dipper would be upset, seeing the previously ordered papers disheveled and discarded. That thought excited him a little.

He glanced back through the open doorway to the room Dipper had barricaded himself in. The blonde smirked in amusement, recalling the muddled and vulnerable look the boy had worn and the show of false control he'd made before hiding himself away.

Bill laughed to himself, grinning at the flimsy door that separated himself from his favorite human. "Oh, my poor little sapling. Are you really so ignorant that you think I'd leave you alone? Or are you just stupid."

* * *

A ghosting breeze fell over the mountains to gently tussle dark locks. It was warm- at least, Dipper knew it should feel that way. He looked out over the memorized landscape, above the sun-bleached totem pole and past the rustling plastic flags to the dark tree line beyond. He shifted, careful not to disturb the loose shingles he sat on as he pulled his knees in tighter. 

This image- the view of Gravity Falls from the roof of the Mystery Shack- had once been so crisp and clear. Yet, gradually the colors had greyed and the edges had become fuzzy and imperfect. It was as if the precious and fragile clips of film that his past were burnt into had been overexposed. Dipper set his eyes on the blurred watercolors of the sunset as he silently tried to hold on to the dilapidated scene.

Unmoving and devoid of expression or feeling, he sat perfectly still, only looking. Even as the sky began to darken, he didn't stir. 

The sun rotated over itself slowly, churning the rolling clouds into a dry storm and revealing a black, cancerous spot near its pole. The dark mark pulled and stretched itself down over the molten surface, creating a long scar. 

Despite the numbness of his dream that held him in place, Dipper scowled at the overfamiliar sphere. The cold, searing, white orb narrowed its pupil at his unassuming figure. "Of course you'd be here," the sky rumbled accusingly, causing bits of the landscape to come undone and fall weightlessly like crushed bits of dried leaves, "rotting away in your lousy reminiscence." 

There was a pause, an unspoken response hanging heavily in the air. When Dipper made no effort to verbalize it, however, Bill sighed disappointedly and shut his eye tight. The sunlight extinguished, leaving nothing behind as the last paper-thin bits of the scene fell away like ash.

The brunette reached out to brace himself but plummeted anyway through the roof, through the floor, through nothing but darkness; through the void. 

The air left Dipper's lungs as his back suddenly hit hard against the cold, grey floor of his twisted Mindscape. He coughed, holding his chest achingly as he tried to sit up. But a slick shoe kept him from succeeding, pushing him back to the floorboards as it stepped against his ribcage. Dipper gasped in pain, even as his breath was forced out of him. He peered up at the towering figure above him. From his angle, Bill loomed higher than ever, eyes laughing but lips drawn flat.

"Get...off-!" he wheezed, gripping a slant ankle. His hold tightened as the sharp heel dug into his chest, "S-stop!" "Or what." the blonde spat, faux humor creeping through his syllables, "You'll try to run away and hide from me again? Oh, I don't think you even know how to." Bill pressed harder against creaking bones, twisting his punishing heel to enunciate each word, "Poor. Little. Pine. Tree."

A cry of pain bit at Dipper's tongue, his body crushing it out of him. The pressured eased a bit, for just a moment, and he was quick to move away. He pushed himself back against the junction of a colorless wall and floor. Shaking arms held each other over the bruising flesh and Dipper's wide eyes were filmed with tears. Still, the embers of a fire flickered in those glassy eyes as he glared up at the demon. Bill returned his gaze easily, features contradicting themselves between amusement and anger all the while.

But Dipper wouldn't stand for it. He wouldn't allow Bill to be angry when _he_ deserved to be outraged. "Get out of my mind! Leave me alone! I don't _care_ if you're bored, I just want some _peace_! How many times do I have to tell you before- b-before..." he swallowed bitterly, voice dropping off as the stern figure above him clapped. The praise was slow and sarcastic. "Look how hard you're trying." Bill sneered, his jagged teeth finally showing themselves again, "Actually, you know, you're still not very convincing.~"

Something thick and salty clung to the back of Dipper's throat and his shaking fingers curled in tightly. It made his voice feel weak. "Why are you doing this? Can't I have one night without you forcing me back into the Mindscape? What, do you get some kind of kick out of torturing me?" Bill's lips parted to retort but Dipper was quick to amend, "No- Don't answer that."

Dragging a heavy breath into his lungs Dipper tried to steel his wavering resolve, "Look. I don't want to do this anymore. So, if you want the...the star thing, then just kill me already. Or else leave me alone."

The tall figure shifted itself, folding long limbs into a crouching position with a surprising amount of fluidity. Bill's face had returned to a manic smile, brows lifted in appreciation as it hovered too close to Dipper's. "Ahh.~ Now that's more like it. Beg a little _harder_." 

Despair and agitation shook in Dipper's eyes as he pressed himself further against the cold wall in retreat. "G-get out..." he croaked dryly, "Get out! This is my mind; I'm in control. And if I want you gone then-" "Not so fast, brainiac." Bill chided, pinching at a clammy cheek, "Just a reminder of our little deal: You belong to me now, your soul belongs to me, and- Hey, whadda ya know!- so does your mind."

Dipper's mouth gaped, moving silently when he failed to find any words. Instead, he found a pair of hands there, suddenly prying his jaw wide open. A startled gasp was all he could manage as the demon eyed his exposed soft palette, pink membrane lining, and flexing tongue. Those wicked yellow eyes creased in glee, watching with intimate detail as Dipper's throat constricted in panic.

Dipper made a move to speak but it broke into a whine as the intruding fingers hooked themselves onto his upper and lower teeth, painfully forcing them farther apart. "Shh. I'm in control now, Pine Tree. No need for any more crying or arguing about it... I wouldn't listen anyway!~"

A weight, somewhere in Dipper's stomach, dropped like a stone in a pond, sinking deeper than he thought it could. His wrists slammed against the wall he was pinned to, unseen shackles binding them there. He gave an experimental tug, but they only bit tighter around his skin. Panic welled up from where the weight had fallen, drowning him from the inside with something thicker than water: fear.

Bill admired the flash of Dipper's throat as he swallowed fearfully. He would have liked to rub and squeeze that vulnerable flesh if he wasn't already more than preoccupied. Long nails and rough pads grazed along the teeth that were lewdly displayed before him. 

"Everything would be so much easier if you weren't so stubborn." the demon soothed, rubbing along the left canine and first bicuspid gingerly. The odd yet tender touch caused Dipper's vision to swim a bit before he mentally reprimanded himself. He wouldn't fall for any more false affection. "But," Bill continued, choosing the bicuspid and pinching it firmly with three fingers, "I suppose there's no fun in an obedient pet when punishment _is_ the best part."

The first crack halted Dipper's breathing, the second had his pupils blown wide, and the third crunched and ground against splinted bone and gum. Bill pulled the harvested tooth loose, dragging out an agonizing moan with it. He smirked wickedly and relished the sound before Dipper had even realized that he'd uttered it. 

Black spots were collecting in the brunette's vision as he tried to process every sensation his nerves were screaming at him. He was painfully aware of the coppery taste sliding down his throat (and less conscious of the release of his jaw and wrists) but it was the whispering that clouded all else. The incessant rasping seemed closer than ever, its words soaking into his skin like poison.

_"Look at you, letting yourself become mutilated,"_

_"It's disgusting! Pathetic."_

_"You've become so weak."_

_"He's going to kill you; he'll take everything you have left."_

_"You are nothing now."_

_"And the worst part is..."_

_"...you **like it**."_

No. That wasn't true. There was no way that Dipper liked anything about this. He told himself that, despite the shiver that ran through his spine as he watched the demon with drunken understanding. Bill brought the tooth to his lips, languidly licking and and sucking the blood and fibers from the bone until it was clean. All the while, his extenuated form was slowly caging itself around Dipper. 

Bill leaned in as he inspected his prize appraisingly, his free hand pressing against the wall near Dipper's head. Still, the brunette could hardly manage the energy to feel revolted. His lips, which remained slightly parted, trembled. Whether he wanted to cry or scream or... something else, he couldn't tell. This feeling wasn't his- it had to be some sort of spell or manipulation.

_"Pathetic!"_ the whisper hissed, so closely and so loudly that Dipper thought he could hear it reverberating off the walls, "You can't hide anything from yourself. You know how far you've fallen. You worthless little-EEHK!" 

The flick of Bill's wrist was so quick that, at first, Dipper didn't know what had happened. He only heard the thud and screeching coming from beyond Bill's shoulders. However, when the demon stood, leaving the brunette to inspect the source of the noise, he saw it. 

A large, bulbous eye, red-veined and glossy, lay writhing and twitching on the colorless floor. Bent bat wings flailed at it's sides and it screamed uselessly as Bill approached it, despite not having any physical ability to scream. Thick liquid spirted and oozed from a puncture, slicking the thing in a clear and gelatinous goop. Still, Dipper's tooth remained painfully buried in it, prongs piercing the injured creature. 

It sputtered a bit, whispering nothing but garbled and broken syllables, before a heavy, black heel came down. It crushed like a grape, flat and wet, it's wings finally going limp.

The air was still during the moment after the creature died. All whispering ceased, leaving only the sound of Bill's soiled shoe scrapping against the wood floor. Dipper, who had been frozen in shock, forced himself to speak. "W-why... You killed that eyebat... with my-" "That doesn't matter." Bill corrected irritably as he sized up the corpse.

"But..." Dipper frowned, both out of confusion and at the sound of his own new-found lisp. "What you should be asking is how this little vermin made it in here, I mean really made it in; flesh and tears." Bill's visage became distorted in thought, "And who let him in..." 

Bill turned back to Dipper. Something sour and ominous hung in the air between them and Dipper found himself dreading the words he'd hear next. But they didn't come. Bill suddenly clamped his thin lips shut, eyes shifting uneasily before he straightened and confidently snapped his fingers, plunging them both into a familiar darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something's watching and It isn't Bill...  
> Also Bill is an Odontophilliac and loves teeth.
> 
> I'm back from my break and hoping that I can post more regularly. Thank you for all of your support, kudos, and comments!
> 
>  
> 
> Nerd Notes:
> 
> Oculus Boreus (Latin for "Northern Eye") is a star that represents the "eye" in the tarus zodiac. As a side note, tarus is also traditionally ruled by Venus.


End file.
